


count the problems

by neon395



Series: there's being alive and there's living. [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, F/M, Reference to Torture, aftermarth, part of my 'feron needs a therapist' series, someone please just hug him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 21:38:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neon395/pseuds/neon395
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even without the little burns that make him look like he’s in mid molt, he can’t forget (sucker), and he dreams every night of blood and white-blue lightning, of cracked bones and bruises, and wakes with her name in his throat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	count the problems

The problem is…

Well, the problem is that Feron never really knows when to keep his mouth shut. But that’s not exactly new. That’s old news, a tired lesson ground in like a boot heel on your fingers. Feron cracks wise at you, or he cracks onto you while a mouth the colour of a slapped cheek tugs into a smirk, galaxy-ending war notwithstanding.

He’s the sort of person people mutter “one day someone’s going to punch him right in the face” about and then decide that today should be that one day, and that they are as good a someone as anyone. 

The problem is…

Well, there’s a lady problem too, that’s a bit cliche, a bit soppy. The damsel falling for her shining knight, except Feron wasn’t in a dress and the damsel isn’t supposed to _betray_ the knight before she gets locked in a tower, or left for the monsters and tied to a rock . 

Or a chair. 

It’s not just Liara, for all that he wishes he could just pull up his hood and walk away, because hell he stayed loyal while his muscles spasmed and his throat ripped with screams in the chair, while Tazzik and too many turians played kick-the-drell, so it’s done, she’s branded into his brain because fuck you heart, you’re a drell, you can’t forget if you tried. Enjoy the memories, sucker. 

The problem is not that he can’t talk, and its not her, it’s… 

Even without the little burns that make him look like he’s in mid molt, he can’t forget (sucker), and he dreams every night of blood and white-blue lightning, of cracked bones and bruises, and wakes with her name in his throat. He’d rather swallow his own tongue then tell her what’s wrong when she asks why he yawns so much, because _she_ seemed to be getting about as much sleep as a salarian.

Feron doesn’t really have friends, except for her, but when she was at the great ship, with him, and he watched her speak and his voice come out, deep and computerized and familiar, he thought he would be sick. And she can’t know that.

And she can’t know that his muscles still shake sometimes, aftershocks, that he still almost pisses himself and reaches for his pistol every time he sees Tazzik, that he wants to see her so badly it’s…

well, it’s not painful in the traditional sense. It just sucks. It sucks a lot. And the problem is, he can’t even tell her why, because Feron is a selfish person, and he’s ok with that, but Liara still comes first.


End file.
